


Baptism of Fire

by iisintrovert (Ghostlyfallows)



Series: Geraskier OnlyFans AU [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Porn, Alternate Universe - Teachers, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Geralt is a sub, Geralt is an OnlyFans creator and Jaskier is his daughter's middle school teacher, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Phone Sex, friends to erotic social media manager to phone sex dom, onlyfans au, send nudes, the online marketplace, un-betad as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25092364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostlyfallows/pseuds/iisintrovert
Summary: A continuation of my previous fic, in which Geralt is an OnlyFans creator and Jaskier is his (simp) twitter manager
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier OnlyFans AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783804
Comments: 49
Kudos: 486





	Baptism of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> So this is entirely a symptom of late night texts and getting really into the sub! Geralt community on twitter. Also the many supportive comments on the first part 🥺 so thank y'all for that!

Over the next two weeks, Jaskier kept a very good track of Geralt’s posts.

For research purposes.

He was quickly learning that what following he must have amassed on OnlyFans was due to luck and luck alone. Geralt was _miserable_ at the internet. So miserable, Jaskier kept a running tally in his notes app of the most immediate fixes Geralt needed to make. Among them included a failure to use emojis in the correct context, uploading at strange hours in the night, failing to keep a consistent upload schedule, and the _typos._ Jaskier could have written a dissertation on all of the hilarious and frustrating mistakes Geralt made.

Potentially the worst example of this was Wednesday night - at 4:30 AM, Geralt posted a very attractive, mostly headless photo of himself. He was leaning back against his couch, his legs splayed, hair falling over his shoulder. The photo captured the moment mid-stroke where he came on his chest and abdomen. The title of the post was simply “cumshot .” The spacing between the word and the punctuation seemed to be intentional.

“He didn’t even crop the screenshot…” Jaskier hissed to himself as he unbuttoned his own jeans. 

With all of the blatant disregard for the unwritten rules of internet performance, it was very difficult to masturbate to. Not impossible. But certainly difficult.

Jaskier told himself the notes app was simply for his own records, but this of course was a lie, because it didn’t make any _fucking sense._ He’d messaged Geralt through the Onlyfans direct messaging system and received lackluster responses. It seems Geralt shied away from the idea of a social media consultant as soon as they’d parted ways in the grocery store. The only way Jaskier could keep his thoughts to himself was to write all of his critiques down, privately, and force himself to not send any more embarrassing stream-of-consciousness monologues to his DMs. 

That was, until he saw a notification on Saturday morning after coming home from a club with his girlfriends. 

A notification on his _school districts email server._

Tagline: hello  
_  
Which social media should I get first. And what should I post. Since you know so much ._

Jaskier stared at the email for a solid ten minutes before he could think of a response. 

There was no way to tell from the tone if Geralt was being sarcastic or not. Maybe he just talked like that. He certainly didn’t seem to understand anything else about how to communicate on the internet. Clearly so, since he decided the best course of action was to send this to Jaskier’s work email. _Oh god,_ he thought, _what if my supervisor sees this?_

Jaskier was fairly certain if any of his supervisors decided to look through his email correspondences, they could do so by contacting IT. This whole thing was giving him a headache. 

With alcohol addled fingers he delicately crafted a response in Geralt’s Onlyfans’ private messaging page. 

_  
Dandelionbard_1975:_

_Incoming messages:_

_(1/2) Hello back, Geralt. While I appreciate your enthusiasm, please please PLEASE for the love of god do not send your Onlyfans related inquiries to my professional email._

_(2/2) If you want to talk more about my thoughts, we could get coffee tomorrow afternoon  
_  
After hitting send, he put his phone aside and stared up at the ceiling. Did that sound like I was asking him out?

Would that be so terrible?

He slapped his own cheeks and shook his head. The alcohol left in his system made his gut sink at the thought of accidentally coming on to one of his students’ parents. This was purely a business transaction. 

In the honor of business professionalism, Jaskier only blushed a little bit when he got another video notification the next morning. 

\--

Geralt met him at the cafe that afternoon. He sat at a tiny table in the corner, hunched over what looked suspiciously like a mocha frappe with extra whip. He glanced up as Jaskier entered the building. Jaskier was reminded once more of his _excellent_ posture. 

“You didn’t need to get all cleaned up for me,” he remarked when he sat down with his Americano. It was true - his hair looked a little more moisturized than usual, and it was pinned up neatly.

Geralt hummed and looked out the window.

“Oh no, don’t be so talkative on my account,” Jaskier grumbled. When Geralt leveraged his thousand-yard stare back at his face, Jaskier smiled sweetly. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

“I suppose so.” The deep rumble of his voice sent a shiver down Jaskier’s spine. He had a fleck of whipped cream on the corner of his mouth that Jaskier had to pinch himself to keep from staring at.

Jaskier clicked his pen against the top of his note pen. “When did you start performing?”

“Performing?” Geralt’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “I wouldn’t call what I do ‘performing.’”

“Well, I love to hear that it’s all completely genuine, because that means you’re less likely to burn out, but I’m fairly certain you understood my question.”

Geralt paused, seemingly confused that his usual dismissive demeanor wasn’t breaking Jaskier’s unrelenting positivity. “I made the account over winter break.”

“And how many subscribers do you have?”

“A little more than 150. I haven’t checked recently.”

“Well, that’s an attitude we’re going to need to work on,” Jaskier murmured as he wrote down the numbers. “Is it mostly women or men?”

“Men. Judging by the messages, at least.” He furrowed his nose at this. “Some women.” 

“Did you...plan on that?” Jaskier asked very carefully. “Many straight men wouldn’t-”

“I’m interested in men.” He said it quite frankly, his hazel eyes boring into Jaskier’s. Jaskier was suddenly very aware of the warmth from their knees brushing together underneath the table. 

Jaskier temporarily short circuited. 

_Fuck._

“Good!” he prayed the squeak of his voice was just in his imagination. “I mean - that’s good. For you. And for your page. You’ll know how to market. Accurately.”

Geralt took a sip from his drink, unimpressed with Jaskier’s waffling. His gaze didn’t break. _Does he even blink?_

Jaskier couldn’t remember the last time one person had stunned him silent so many times. He was rarely at a loss for words. That was clear enough from his rambling - he spoke enough to fill the silences Geralt peppered into their conversation. And yet, when he stared into his eyes and tilted his head, his silver-gray hair sliding over the slope of his shoulder, Jaskier’s mind was completely empty of distractions. 

Their knees brushed once more, and he was surprised more than anything at the ability of a fully clothed touch of their knees was enough to send heat to the bottom of his spine. 

“So!” Jaskier tried to use his own volume to cover up his deliberate pull away from Geralt’s legs under the table. He reached into his laptop bag and pulled his personal computer out. “Scoot over. I have notes.”

Despite the sour expression on his face, Geralt shifted his chair so Jaskier could sit next to him with their backs to the wall. Jaskier’s “research” involved photos that he was sure the other man didn’t want flashed to the rest of the cafe. 

Jaskier scrolled through the google document and gestured at the various crimes against social media. 

“You’ve got a great base to work from. Truly a brilliant… portfolio. I have a thirty day plan to kick you off, using data I gathered from some of the top male performers on this site. There’s one primary piece you’re lacking in - advertisement. You’ve got the body, the creativity, the uniqueness, you just need the accounts. This could be a brilliant mutually-beneficial relationship. I can see it now - Geralt the Witcher, top one percent of creators. We’ll be invited to the AVN awards this time next year.” He framed an imaginary billboard in the air above their table.

“How many subscriptions did you purchase?” Geralt asked, squinting at Jaskier’s computer screen. 

Jaskier sighed loftily. “Unimportant. What’s important is _you_ need a twitter.” he punctuated the word _you_ by clapping a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “And a ring light.”

Geralt sighed and looked away. “What’s the point of doing all of this when I get by just fine right now?” 

“What’s the point in…” Jaskier’s mind went blank. “What’s the point? Geralt, don’t you see how much money you’d be making? No, seriously, it’s _this amount._ I put the exact amount in the powerpoint.”

“I don’t do this to be rich. I do it to support my family. Money comes and goes. I don’t want to be absorbed by all of this.”

Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back into his chair dramatically. “That’s the most words I’ve heard out of you today, and they didn’t even make any sense. I’m not showing you how to make this a full time job, you could do as much work as you do right now and make three times as much money.”

Geralt hummed in response. 

“Really, you’re being so _grouchy_ when I’m offering to control all of your social media accounts for a measly 10%.” 

Geralt still didn’t look convinced, but his gaze had drifted to the figure on Jaskier’s open laptop. 

He tugged at his collar and Jaskier pretended not to notice the flash of skin revealed when his crisp white t-shirt was pulled down to his collarbone. After a moment of silent deliberation, he sighed. 

“What do I have to do first?”

Jaskier’s grin was blinding. “I’m so glad you asked.”

\--

After sharing their personal phone numbers, Geralt was finally free to send him all of his professional material. Jaskier started his portion of their agreement that afternoon by creating a twitter account, instagram, and tumblr. He shared the usernames and passwords with Geralt. He definitely didn’t need to take a moment to steady his breathing when Geralt sent him different options for his profile picture. 

He first sent a headless photo of his torso in blue jeans, his thumb tucked into the waistband. His hair was pulled back, so there was just the hint of silver in the background against his neck. Jaskier gulped.  
_  
Is this one okay_

_What about this one_

Another photo of the same kind, this one a mirror selfie that highlighted his forearm muscles and the line of his obliques which made Jaskier’s mouth go dry. 

Then, incomes a third photo, another mirror selfie of his torso. He was clearly naked, and the photo cut off after the sharp edge of his hip-V and a hint of dark hair laced with silver. Jaskier clicked his phone off immediately after seeing it so he could scream into his hands.

_Was he doing this on purpose?_

To: Geralt

_I was thinking a picture of your face for a profile pic. These would be good for a pinned post._

From: Geralt

_I’m not sure what that means, but ok_

Jaskier held his breath when the typing bubble popped up and kept it held until the pictures came through.

He let out a _woosh_ of breath when they did.

“Holy fucking shit…” he hissed.

The photo was clearly fresh - Geralt was on his back on his bed, the phone angle from above. His hair was splayed out over his pillow. His chest gleamed with sweat and his eyebrow was quirked slightly. He looked like he’d fallen out of a wet dream. 

He didn’t even need to glance at the other two selfies - although they _were_ beautiful, and he _did_ save them to his camera roll for personal reasons - this one was _the_ profile picture to end all profiles. This was the one that would have twitter fans imagining themselves riding that big beautiful man and glancing down at him. This photograph was worth one hundred anonymous payments of $11.99.

Pride bubbled up in his chest as he linked the OF account to the new twitter page. He turned his phone off and rolled over in bed, his chest squeezing. He’d check the account in the morning for new followers, but for now it was much too late to sit refreshing the page. Part of him was nervous - if there was nothing in the morning, he’d have nothing to show for Geralt to prove their relationship worthwhile. On the other hand, that face… the pictures swam right behind his eyelids as he passed out. 

When Jaskier woke up the next morning, he groggily reached for his cellphone out of habit and pressed his home button to silence the alarm. He wiped a hand over his eyes and moaned in frustration. Seven AM was much too early for open eyelids. 

When his vision cleared enough to read his screen, he almost passed out from shock rather than exhaustion. 

His notifications had never maxed out before. 

“Holy - holy _shit,_ ” he hissed, scrubbing his eyes once more. “Mother of -”

He typed Geralt’s name into his contacts list and called him up as he scrambled to pull his work pants on. 

“Geralt? Geralt! Oh how I love hearing that voice bright and early. What are you doing this afternoon, you great lug! Have you checked your account?” 

“Do you have any idea how early it is? I’m dropping Cirilla off at school in an hour. If this could have waited I’m going to -”

Jaskier jammed a wet toothbrush in between his teeth and spoke around it as he poured his cup of coffee. “As I’ll remind you once more, I am _not_ discussing this at my place of work. Check your account if you want to be woken up.”

Geralt hummed noncommittally. Faint breathing noises and typing came through the other end as Jaskier blew on his burnt toast. 

“Fuck,” Geralt hummed, and Jaskier grit his teeth as a shiver ran down his spine. His voice sounded way too similar to a video he posted a few days ago. “You’ve done it.”

\--

The next few weeks breezed by. 

Jaskier had taken to work-shopping his posts before Geralt posted them - he suggested time frames, photos, gimmicks, everything he’d learned from observing some of the top performers on twitter. Geralt’s audience was steadily increasing on OnlyFans, and the bump in income meant he was in a much better mood on the phone. He was almost talkative, some nights, when he replied to Jaskier’s ideas. He was still skeptical of some of the video ideas, and rejected many of them vehemently, but Jaskier would have it no other way. Geralt’s charm, his talent, and his deltoids, spoke enough for him. 

Geralt was approaching the top 15% of creators after a month. It was growing closer to summertime. A fairly tame photo in a swimsuit sent him over the edge on twitter and he was nearing 20k followers. In celebration, Jaskier promised his twitter audience a poll that would decide the theme for a 15 minute exclusive video on OnlyFans.

Jaskier was getting used to the cushion of cash in his bank account as well. He was going out for lattes instead of Americanos and splurging on his music library. Sometimes he even paid for fresh fruit when he got his groceries. 

He was _almost_ getting used to the videos Geralt sent late at night, presumably directly after filming them. Each time he got the notification a few times a week his heart rate increased. 

He still wasn’t positive Geralt was doing it to mess with him. It was probably uncommon for talent to send their videos to their management when they didn’t necessarily have to. Jaskier was still unsure what he was meant to respond with. The first time Geralt sent him a video he nearly had a heart attack, then an aneurysm as he tried to type back a response. 

He tried out “Great!” then deleted it and then screamed into his hands. Eventually, he pointed out that Geralt had dirty laundry in the back of the shot.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he’d hissed at himself, pacing through his apartment after he hit send.. 

Geralt, of course, didn’t mind. In fact, it seemed he was enjoying it. After a week or so, _he started asking questions._

_Did you like that one, Jaskier?_

_Is this one good? Should I try doing this? How is this angle? What about this?_

_Would you buy this one? What do you think when you watch this one?_

That last one was certainly more frustrating than the rest. To his credit, Jaskier was absolutely the picture of professionalism. 

That was, if he ignored the building sexual tension whenever it was Geralt’s turn to drop Ciri off at school. He always leaned out the driver’s side door of his pick-up truck, tilting down his sunglasses to look in Jaskier’s eyes. Jaskier felt the stare all the way up from where he stood by the doors of the building with his co-worker. 

He’d grit his teeth and smile brightly, ignoring the lifted eyebrows from his favorite co-worker, Triss. 

“What?” he hissed at her one day. 

She rolled her eyes and said, “Nothing,” but he noticed her sly smile anyways. 

When they - _he_ \- finally reached 20k followers, Jaskier jumped with joy. He paced around the apartment after he posted the poll, consisting of ideas from the mentions in Geralt’s tweets. He was so exhausted from grading essays he passed out in bed before calling Geralt. 

\--

“You did _what.”_

To Jaskiers credit, his cheery smile only slightly faltered. “It was a poll. On your Twitter. Your fans decided, not me.”

Geralt sat back and sighed. He ran his (clean) hand through his tangled hair, trying to regain the strength to sit up and walk over to the shower. He was still processing the sentence Jaskier had just said out loud, and it wasn’t sitting right with him.

He was still recovering from shooting his latest video. After he’d sent it to Jaskier, the other man had responded by calling him back immediately. He grinned when his name appeared on his screen, hoping maybe he’d finally cracked him down enough to admit he enjoyed the videos Geralt sent him, instead of nit-picking his presentation and camera work. 

And then Jaskier’s face appeared on his screen and he told him what his twitter followers had decided he was meant to do for 15 minutes that Friday. 

“But I’m not a bottom.” Geralt huffed.

“Not yet,” Jaskier murmured. 

_“Jaskier.”_ ”

“What! Isn’t it always you telling Cirilla to try new things?”

“Please don’t bring my girl into this.” Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose and tossed his head back. “Just...give me a few moments to process.”

“Well, you better process it before two days from now. No one likes a sloppy first-time bottoming video. On second thought - actually, on _third_ thought, why aren’t wearing a shirt? Surely all the money I’ve been making you is enough for an extra v-neck for your off days.”

“I _just_ sent you a video.” Geralt grumbled, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. Processing the request wasn’t made easier by Jaskier’s rambling.

Jaskier’s ears went pink and his mouth clamped shut. Why was it he was always so talkative, until he wasn’t?

“I see,” he said, his voice slightly strained. Geralt raised an eyebrow, pressing. Jaskier didn’t take the bait. 

“Fine,” he growled. He rolled over in bed and glared into the face-time call. “If it’s what they fucking want. It better be fucking worth it.”

He hung up and tossed his phone on his pillow. This was his punishment for never checking the twitter account. Jaskier took care of everything besides posting the official videos, and he’d trusted him up until this point to do it seamlessly. This was quite a curve ball. 

He hung his head as he lumbered into the shower. Maybe this was the natural progression of things. There were only so many times he could film himself jerking off and staring into the camera, after all. 

\- 

“I need your help.” 

“Finally you’ll admit it,” Jaskier replied. “Wait. Why exactly are you calling me asking for help the day before you’re posting?”

Geralt grunted. “I am practicing. I want this to go smoothly.”

In an instant, Jaskier recognized the tight edge to his voice and the slow pace of his breathing. 

“Geralt,” he whined. Jaskier was thankful this was just a voice call. “Oh no. Oh god. You’re not - _fuck._ I just - don’t why - _ho-_ ”

“Don’t be such a prude,” Geralt hissed. “I’ve never done this before, I need someone with - experience!”

Jaskier felt the back of his neck heat up. “I don’t remember ever _telling_ you I had experience.” 

The sigh Geralt gave him dripped of _oh, please._

The rest of Jaskier’s body heated up. “Well, I - I’m _offended,_ frankly. I have - I would -” he spluttered through the words. 

“Can you or can you not help me?” Geralt huffed.

Jaskier bit his lower lip. He closed his eyes and counted to five as Geralt’s slow breathing came through his speaker. 

Thirty different options ran through his head, none of them especially good. He balled his free hand into a fist and placed it firmly on his bouncing knee. He leaned back into his kitchen chair and sighed. 

“I can,” he murmured. 

“Good. How the fuck do I get it to go in.”

Jaskier swore internally and ran a hand through his hair. All of his possible dialogue options were _awful_ , but he couldn’t stall now. 

“What are you doing right now?” he asked, grateful his voice was steady. 

“Trying to get the toy inside me.”

“Did you prep first?”

Geralt paused. “A bit.”

Jaskier sighed in frustration. “How long is ‘a bit’?”

Geralt grunted again and Jaskier had to slam his fist into his thigh. His voice was so _deep._

“Not very long. I got bored.”

“How many fingers?” Jaskier cringed as the words left his mouth.

“One.”

“That’s not enough.” Jaskier squeezed his hand in his hair, hoping the sting on his scalp would offer some clarity. It didn’t.

“Well what _is_ enough?” Geralt sighed and made another frustrated noise. “You’re not exactly being helpful, Jaskier. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

_Well._ It was fairly straightforward, at this point. Unfortunately, he couldn’t exactly _talk Geralt through it_ without getting brain-numbingly hard, not after weeks of wanting to be on the other end of this call. Geralt was obviously not a service top. Jaskier remembered the disaster which was the first time he’d ever bottomed, and he wouldn’t wish that experience on his worst enemy. 

So, he made a snap decision. 

He let go of the nerves filtering what he wanted to say. 

He let out one long, low breath. 

He stood up from the kitchen table and unbuttoned his jeans as he walked towards his bed. 

If Geralt wanted him to walk him through it, he would _walk him through it._

His voice came out surprisingly calm. “What position are you in right now?”

“I'm… on my knees. Toy’s right under me.” Geralt grunted. 

He held back a hiss and nodded, even though Geralt couldn’t see him. “Put it on a towel and lie on your back.”

There was a shuffling sound as Geralt did as he was told without arguing. The compliance sent another shiver down his spine. 

“Now what?” Geralt asked, his voice winded slightly.

“Are you hard?” 

“Yes,”

“Good.” Jaskier nearly _purred._ “You need a lot of lube. Both hands fully covered.”

“Alright.”

A click, and Geralt’s breathing. Jaskier put his phone on speaker and rested it on his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. His own hands were firmly at his side, although his cock was straining against his boxer briefs. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, and Geralt’s voice was rough when he responded. 

“Yes.”

“Touch yourself.”

“I already am.”

_Fuck._

In the normal context for this kind of phone call, he would have responded _me too._

Instead, he just controlled his own breathing and said into the air above him, “Good.” he hoped his own change of breathing wasn’t recognizable over the receiver, but he doubted it. “Reach between your legs with the other hand.”

“Yeah, I understand that much,” Geralt huffed. 

“Well don’t push inside yet,”

Geralt grunted. “This is why I got impatient.”

“Be more patient, then. You can’t rush this.”

Geralt huffed again, but he didn’t talk back. Jaskier palmed his bulge and pictured Geralt, lying back on his bed, his thighs spread, hand dipping underneath his balls. 

“What do I do now?” his voice was higher now, and Jaskier could imagine him stroking his cock in time with his breathing. 

“Keep touching yourself. Rub the pads of your fingers on your hole.” the words were just as filthy coming out of his mouth as they were when they came into his brain, accompanied by the image of Geralt doing just so. 

There was silence, on the other end, then Geralt sighed.

Jaskier smiled. “Does that feel good?”

_That,_ certainly, was breaking the edges of an instructional call. If Geralt thought so as well, he didn’t make note of it.

“Yes,” he grunted. “It does.” 

“Good. Keep doing that. Relax.” his own voice was smoother than he thought possible. He relaxed back into his own sheets and rewarded himself by squeezing his cock through his boxer briefs. “When you’re ready, just put the pad of one finger against it and hold it there. 

This was the first moan. 

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered closed at the sound. 

“Okay, what next Jaskier,” Geralt prodded. His voice was a _mess._ Jaskier loved the way his name sounded on his tongue.

“Bear down and put just the tip of your finger inside. Keep stroking your - your cock.” His voice cracked slightly. 

Geralt moaned again, this time through closed teeth. 

“Tell me how it feels.” Jaskier whispered. 

“It’s- it’s better. Much better.”

“Push all the way inside.”

“I already have. Fuck, it this how it’s supposed to feel?” 

Jaskier bit his lower lip and slid his thumb under the edge of his boxer briefs. “It’s that good?” 

“Yes,” he groaned. Then, “tell me what to do, Jaskier.”

Jaskier talked him through sliding his finger in all the way, and out, and adding a second finger while he pumped his cock. His moans came through the receiver and Jaskier soaked them up.

“Grab the toy,” Jaskier instructed, feeling astronomically more brave after each of the sounds that slipped past Geralt’s lips. 

_“Yes,”_

He heard the wet noises of Geralt slicking up the toy and bit back his own moan. His hand cupped the head of his own dick, holding it against his stomach as he waited for Geralt to say something else. 

“I’ve got it, tell me what to do.”

“What’s it like?”

“It’s... pretty big, not as big as I am. It’s white and it has a suction cup.”

“Put it on the floor and kneel over it, like you were before.”

The sound it made when it smacked into the floor and suctioned there was _filthy._

“I’m here, I’m on it.”

“Do you want to fuck yourself on it?”

_“Yes,”_

Jaskier’s fist tightened around his cock. “Do it. Brace your hands on the ground and slide down.”

The moan - it was almost too much. Whatever semblance they had of this being normal was gone, burned up in thin air. Geralt groaned as he lowered himself, his shaky breaths coming through his phone, also on speaker. Jaskier knew the exact moment it brushed his prostate, because he gasped and his breath hitched. 

_“Fuck,”_ Geralt groaned, and Jaskier could hear his floor creak underneath the weight of him.

“What are you doing? Describe it to me,” Jaskier asked as he fisted himself. He rolled onto his side and gripped his pillow with his other hand. 

He didn’t even try to attempt the higher lilt to his voice and the tiny grunts that came out of his mouth.

“I’m - _fuck,_ this is good holy _shit_ -”

“Take your time,” Jaskier encouraged. “Go slow, really feel it.”

He imagined Geralt lifting his hips and squeezing his hands against the floor as he dropped down again, his hips unpracticed and messy as he rolled them back and forth. His shoulders were probably arched forward as he supported himself, his thick thighs shaking from feeling something this deep for the first time. 

Jaskier moaned into the receiver and-

Geralt moaned back 

“Fuck, Jaskier,” he groaned. “Fuck, this is - _fuck,_ ”

“Are you close?”

_“Yes,”_ he gasped. “Yes, god, _please -_ ”

“Come for me.”

Geralt choked back a moan.

Jaskier could hear it loud and clear. 

He bit down on the joint of his thumb to hide the embarrassingly loud noise that came out of him as he fisted his cock. He came all over his stomach and his bed sheet, his mind hazy from the panting noises coming through his cell phone. He wished he could see his face. He wished he could feel it, cup Geralt’s sweaty cheek in his palm and stroke his cheekbone, press his thumb against his lips, run his hands through his tangled hair.

His ears were ringing as he sat there, the only sound on the other end of the call Geralt’s labored breathing.

Whatever spirit of confidence that had possessed him during the call vanished at the end of his orgasm. 

So, he did what he usually did, and attempted to fill the silence. 

“So! That was - interesting. Nice! I mean. Not just interesting. I enjoyed it. Obviously. Quick question - what the hell? Like seriously, what the fuck? Was that on purpose? Have you been doing all of this on purpose? Am I missing something?” He rolled over onto his back. “I _thought_ the videos were getting to be a bit _much,_ but that was - that was -”

Geralt just chuckled. “Goodnight, Jaskier.” 

“Oh, you cheeky mother fu-”

The call ended. 

Jaskier sat staring at his phone, shocked silent, for longer than he’d be willing to admit.

-

The only evidence he had that what they'd done wasn't a horny fever dream came in the form of a mirror selfie - a tame one at that. Geralt's hair was tied back in a neat pony tail, and he was wearing a black tank top and gray sweatpants. Geralt stared into the camera from the mirror. The caption read: _thanks for the hair cream recommendation ._

Jaskier bemoaned into his pillow and screamed, "What does it _mean!?_ "

"Oh honey," Triss sighed from his bedroom floor. "You are not immune to DILF propaganda."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! You can scream at me on[ Twitter](https://twitter.com/ghostlyfallows), where I post about the witcher and my NSFW art, including [this piece](https://twitter.com/ghostlyfallows/status/1275160994873049089) related to this fic and [ this piece](https://twitter.com/ghostlyfallows/status/1278393085542662144?s=20) which relates to my general obsession with Geralt being a subby bottom


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